The Inaugural Post

As with most things, I had to hang back and observe this whole blog phenomenon (or epiphenomena...as blogger McBam would say) for a while before I decided to hop in. I decided that...short of someone dropping in my path and saying "Hey. I'll pay you boatloads of cash to write this stuff down."...recording my life for future generations, more than likely, simply wasn't going to happen. I SUCK at keeping a journal. I start out with the absolute best of intentions, make a couple of entries and then wander away from it like a kid from a 5-day old, non-electronic, toy. That being said, we'll see how this goes.

I'm a little concerned how this whole "preserve anonymity" thing is going to go. I know, you're sitting there saying, "Holy Pete!! It's the INTERNET! No one you know is going to be able to figure out who you are." And to you, I reply, "Oh yeah? With my luck, I'm the ONE blog that my boss finds on her initial foray into the land that is Blogging." All I can hope is that I can be creative enough with my character names to keep from blowing my cover too blatantly!!

I am also concerned about the fact that I have a habit of cussing like a sailor. This habit, thankfully, I'm able to filter during my job as a teacher. It'd be really hard to crack down on kids for using horrific language if I'm using the swearing alphabet every class period. Therefore, I have developed an INCREDIBLE filter. In 5 years of teaching high school, I've managed to only swear in my students' presence ONCE. (Trust me, there have been many, many more instances where it COULD have happened.)

In my defense, this child had taken my last nerve and was doing the mambo on it in COMBAT BOOTS. I looked at him and (in my head, apparently) said "Brian, you get your rasty behind out in the hall and talk to Mr. Young..then you get back here and sit where I told you to sit!!" When I finished, all of my students were sitting, perfectly silent (my first clue that something had gone horribly awry)...with their eyeballs as big as Escalade wheels. I said, "WHAT?!" One timid child whispered, "Miss...you said....ass."

I then did the math and realized what I had actually said.

OOPS!

(First rule of teaching: never let the kids know that you didn't mean to do whatever it was you just did...no matter what it was...because they'll never let you live it down, and will rush to tell each and every person they know IN DETAIL I-only-wish-they-used-in-their-writing exactly what you said)

Having already taken this as one of my personal vows...I said "And?!" Inside, I was thinking, "Oh great. So much for being gainfully employed. The first time I slip...I have to do it in front of a teacher. Fabulous."

The next day, I went to Mr. Young and told him how horrified I was that I had done that. He said, "Don't worry. I have Brian in class. He could drive anyone to cussing!"

WHEW!

I chased that rabbit to say this...I'm going to have to invoke the schoolday filter on this little blog o' mine, because I have a funny feeling my mother will be reading this.

I know what you're thinking. And to you I say:

Yes, I am a grownup. (according to my students I had a dinosaur for a childhood pet)

No, I don't live in my parents' basement (not that they have one...but even if they did, I wouldn't be living there).

I simply do not want to hear from mi madre, ad nauseum, about my word-choice. Because...I've found that the "It's your husband's fault I can cuss like a sailor" argument does not go over well. At all. And I would like to remain IN the will....so I get to help pick the nursing home! (FYI: This is a Family Joke...if you're offended, go find another blog to read!)

Now that I am ready to post the Inaugural Post, I have but this one question: "Who's hiding the bottle of champagne we need to use to toast the sailing of this ship?!" (And yes, I realize that you're supposed to whack the bottle on the ship...but that seems like a waste of perfectly good alcohol.) And holy buckets, do I need some after a day spent trying to teach teenagers how to write. Hand it over!!

Hasta.